Anytime, pal.

“Though, I was surprised one evening when I noticed an extra doe in the herd. She was rough looking. It wasn’t until I noticed the scar under her left eye that I realized she wasn’t a “she” at all. It was Roger and he had shed his antlers.”

Between my front door and the gravel pad next to the garage where I park my pickup, a long path leads eastward. I’ve labored my brown ass off trying to keep it clear of snow this year. About 60 yards from the porch steps, at the end of the path, a creek divides our home from the rest of the world. A wooden bridge spans over the creek and, to the north and south of it, tall aspens and pines make for a beautiful grove where meadow grass lays dormant, under a thick blanket of snow. There, between the brush and trees, a bit of a haven exists for some of the local wildlife. The peace and tranquility of the area resembles safety. The grass and brush provides food and, thanks to my night vision and sound suppressor, there hasn’t been too much of a presence made by predators.

Every morning, through the steam rising from my coffee cup, I witness this deer stand and meander through the trees to meet me in the open, just before the bridge. I like to think that he’s the “chief” of his herd and, at the sound of footsteps nearby, he takes on the responsibility of investigating any potential danger in order to face it head on and defend his does.

“Mornin’ Roger,” I offer as I walk by.

The buck stands still with regal posture, watching me as I climb into my truck then, turns back into the trees as I drive away.

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Roger working his way to the neighbors willow bottom.

Usually, when I pull down the drive on my way home, I can see Roger and his does digging through the snow to feed on the meadow grass below. They lift their heads and watch me as I carry my tired body towards the porch. Consequently, Roger always walks out to the path to meet me. He watches me as I walk by, surveying my behavior. In my mind, he’s just another head-of-household, keeping situationally aware and looking out for his tribe.

“Evenin’ Roger,” I greet again, tired and defeated.

The deer feed through the evening and into the dark, long after the sun sets. They wonder over the fence into the neighbor’s yard to eat on their trees for a bit but, when the party is over, they come home to Cantu Grove and bed down beneath the pines. They’ve found a comfortable place to winter and, sustaining that for them has become a pride of mine. I wouldn’t assume that it has meant much to any of them. After all, they’re just wild animals. It’s doubtful they can appreciate anything, right?

I snapped this photo of Roger late into the winter, approximately one year after originally writing this tall tale. This was the last photograph I got to take of my old friend. He would meet his appropriate end the following Fall season, when a local youngster who was just learning to hunt would take this well-aged buck with a bow – cultivating the triumphant memory that would bring him joy and satisfaction for the rest of his life. I’m grateful to have known Roger in his later years and, even more so, I’m *grateful to have gotten to celebrate in his gift to a young member of the next generation of conservationists.*

Probably. Though, I was surprised one evening when I noticed an extra doe in the herd. She was rough looking. It wasn’t until I noticed the scar under her left eye that I realized she wasn’t a “she” at all. It was Roger and he had shed his antlers. He had retreated a bit with his bravado but, nonetheless, it was the king of the castle. I smiled at the buck, offered my usual greeting and, continued to the porch. It was there that I found another surprise. It lay there like an intentionally placed parcel.

A coincidence. Probably. But, in my mind, a thank you. I like to think of it as a token of appreciation, for the hospitality, from one buck to another. I picked up the antler, a boyish grin spread across my face. I looked to Roger and held it up.

“Anytime, pal.”

Without a doubt, Roger had dropped his right side and left it for me to stuble upon.

Author’s Note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story and all the content associated with it. As an avid sportsman, I hope that this tale inspires you to get outside to enjoy the wild with the ones you love most. I write these stories as a supplement to my lifestyle as a sportsman and guide, and with them comes a certain accountability. The details of my stories are purely based on my recollection alone and in no particular way do they reflect a chronologically factual, indisputable timeline of events. They are in no way intended for official use or as a reference for official purposes. These are simply tall tales meant to entertain the tired mind; best served with a clear evening, a warm fire and, a strong whiskey.

All the photos and content featured in my tall tales are my own, unless expressly cited otherwise, and the unauthorized use or reproduction of them is strictly prohibited. That’s all for now, my friends. If you enjoyed this content and would like to see more like it, I can be found on Instagram by searching “Authentically Wild Out West” and on YouTube by searching the same phrase. Until the next campfire, stay safe out there and look after each other.

On another quick note: I’ve launched a new publication on Substack, specifically to showcase my serialized fiction and poetry!

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Para, Brazil – Amazon Jungle 2026 is a GO!

Adventure into the Jungle with me in September of 2026! I’m taking eight intrepid souls along with me as I fly into the heart of the Amazon jungle to pursue Surubi (Tiger Striped Catfish), Payara (Cachorra), Trairao (Giant Wolf Fish) and, Tucanare (Melaniae Peacock Bass) in crystal clear pocket water. I’ve partnered with Angling Frontiers to develop this once-in-a-lifetime excursion into the headwaters region of the Xingu river basin. This majestic arena has been closed to human presence for nearly 30 years – designated as a conservation district – however, it was just opened exclusively to my partners for guiding operations in the 2026 season. Don’t miss your opportnity to experience one of the last truly wild places on earth, where fish and wildlife have never seen a human. Spots are VERY limited so, reach out to me with any questions of to book! I’m looking forward to sharing in this adventure with you.

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Come Fish & Hunt in Wyoming With Me!

If you’ve been reading my tall tales and outdoor articles for a while, you have probably recognized that much of my writings revolve around anecdotes. I live these stories, here in one of the last truly wild places on Earth and now as a full-time guide, I’d like to extend an invitation to you:

Come experience this prestigious place with me.

You can do this by reaching out to Wyoming Fishing Company and exploring the many options we have available to accommodate your next fishing, waterfowl, upland bird, small game, or predator hunting adventure. We can facilitate small & large groups alike or offer a one-on-one guided experience. Come make some memories this season! I’m already looking forward to adventuring with you.

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